


Easy.

by anselm0



Category: Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid (1969)
Genre: Accidental Voyeurism, Blanket Permission, M/M, Outdoor Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-13
Updated: 2019-12-13
Packaged: 2021-02-26 01:28:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,997
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21775228
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anselm0/pseuds/anselm0
Summary: Butch Cassidy, last of the great outlaws, spreading his legs for a stranger like a common whore. Sundance doesn't like it one bit.Now with a sequel,Turn of the Century.
Relationships: Harry Longabaugh | Sundance Kid/Robert Parker | Butch Cassidy
Comments: 20
Kudos: 48





	Easy.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to [milkweedy](https://www.youtube.com/user/Milkweedy) (aka [freshcandy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/freshcandy/pseuds/freshcandy)) for being my cheerleader!

Sundance didn’t like it. This whole one-horse town was no good. The whisky was young, their one and only whore was old, the gamblers were cautious, and Butch was—

Well, Butch and his new best friend had been sent upstairs because Butch had been making too much noise for the barkeep’s sensibilities. Butch liked to talk. With an eager audience, he talked that much bigger. And that limey fuck Jimmy sure was eager. He had been watching Butch like he had the secret to everlasting life, and the recipe was also a clever joke. Butch was a sucker for that sort of thing. Before they had been banished, Butch had been moments away from getting up on the bar to do a fan dance.

Sundance didn’t like it one bit.

He spat tobacco into the dregs of his beer. Looking nervous, the fellow across the table folded, then so did Bolo Tie, and that was it. Sundance won with a pair of fours. Disgusted, he swept the meagre pot into his pockets and left the game, if it could be called that.

He and bartender eyed each other warily while Sundance considered staying for another drink. It felt like a night for it, except he’d sampled two of the three drinks on offer, neither of which was worth the dollar, and it’d be cold day in Hell before he ordered a sherry. He hadn’t heard Butch crack himself up in a while, so in the end, Sundance nodded to the bartender and hoped the soiree in their shared room was breaking up. If fucking Jimmy had fallen asleep in his bed, Sundance wouldn’t think twice about bodily throwing him out.

In fact, he almost hoped they had partaken of the whole bottle of rotgut Butch had bought and Jimmy wouldn’t wake up until he hit the floor. Sundance kept his footsteps light going upstairs, just in case. There were some weird snuffling noises, like a kid with nightmares, escaping through the cavernous gaps around the warped door that boded well. Slipping off his hat, Sundance crept close enough to peer through the cracks.

It took a moment to realize what he was seeing, even though they’d left the lamp burning. Butch was on his bed and his eyes were closed, but he was not sleeping. That much was immediately obvious. Jimmy’s hand was over Butch’s mouth and his head was in Butch’s lap, making Butch make those little noises against his palm. It was necessary, Sundance knew, having spent many godawful nights in boarding and whore houses listening to Butch caterwauling on the other side of a thin wall. This saloon was far too quiet for that to fly, not to mention everyone had seen who had gone upstairs.

Sundance suddenly realized Jimmy had one of Butch’s naked legs thrown over his bare shoulder, and his free hand was—

Butch made another horrible, desperate noise, shuddering. “Jesus H. Christ, yes! God, c’mere,” he whispered roughly.

His leg fell down when Butch pulled Jimmy away from his prick, dragging him off his knees into a kiss. “If you’re as good with tools as you are with your hands, and I have a good feeling about you, Jimmy, I am absolutely confident, but you’re going to have to keep shutting me up.”

“Figured I might, Mr. Cassidy,” Jimmy said, smirking. And then he pushed Butch farther onto the bed so his head was up against the wall and climbed up after him, over him, and—

Sundance hoped that, in his haste, he hadn’t made enough noise to be noticed as he left. He jammed his hat back on his head, scattering sawdust and peanut shells as he strode across the bar. Bolo Tie leapt out of his path. It was dark out on the main, and only, street. Without meaning to, Sundance looked up and saw the light on in the upstairs room. His stomach twisted like he’d swallowed a mouthful of chew.

It wasn’t like he was a simpleton or an ignorant. He’d been all over the frontier, and in prison at an age where he had to get mean to keep his dignity. Sundance knew that men sometimes kept each other’s company, and it wasn’t like there had been much choice in this backwater. Nor was he blind, so he’d known fucking Jimmy’d had designs on Butch. He had kept touching his mouth while he had watched Butch tip his chair back on two legs so he could gesture even bigger. Anybody with eyes could’ve seen it. What Sundance had done, like an idiot, was assume Butch could handle himself.

He should have known better. Butch could rarely handle himself, and he definitely could not restrain himself when someone looked at him like he hung the moon. Very secretly, Butch fancied himself Robin Hood. Sundance knew that. He should have been able to guess that having a real live Englishman, funny accent and all, for an audience would drive Butch to new heights of showmanship. Granted, there was no way Sundance could have guessed that would be the closing number, but he should have known there would be trouble of some kind.

As it turned out, Butch was easy. Sundance paced and turned this idea over in his mind, testing the weight of it. Butch was easy, like some ladies not deserving of the title. Except for who he was being easy with, it made sense. Butch was always easy with people, real generous-like. Whores the whole way from Montana down to Arizona all but fought over who got to make time with him when Butch strolled in with his ready grin and open wallet. He rarely met a fellow except Butch made a fast friend. Not that Sundance would call all that happening with Jimmy friendship, but it sure as hell was fast.

Sundance stopped at the end of the street, such as it was, and planted his hands on his hips. It was stupid to be all worked up over a random bastard in some bastard town. It was downright foolish to be looking out into the dark, cold desert and only seeing Butch’s hand in Jimmy’s dark hair, fingertips digging into the base of his skull where it was shaved down to bare stubble. There would be no way Butch could pretend it wasn’t a man he was with. Jimmy was young, but he was taller than Butch, and broad. And if Sundance was being real honest, it hadn’t seemed like Butch had the slightest desire to pretend otherwise.

He was easy, Sundance thought again, fishing a toothpick to chew on out of his pocket. Easy, and maybe something else. There were words for it, but they were all ugly. That didn’t seem fair to Butch, even in Sundance’s own head. Butch was a lot of things, not all of them good, but he was never ugly, never cruel.

He didn’t mind so much what Butch was, Sundance decided. Whatever it was that Butch was. If it hadn’t mattered for their partnership before, it shouldn’t matter now. It had surprised him, but now he knew and that was that. The only problem, so far as Sundance could see, was Jimmy. He rolled the toothpick across his teeth, grim and thoughtful. It wasn’t likely Jimmy would be telling tales all his way out to California, but if he ever had the mind to, he had a good one: Butch Cassidy, last of the great outlaws, spreading his legs for a stranger like a common whore.

That was the most upsetting aspect of the whole affair. Butch didn’t use his name when they were out on a job like this, not when the posse from the town they’d just robbed was still out looking for them and they were three days’ ride out from their home range. He always had what he called a nom-de-cheval ready on the tip of his tongue. Butch had a gift for revealing each new alias and excuse for passing through in casual conversation, careless and easy as if it was the truth. A couple of times, he’d used the name Harry, and it had given Sundance a jolt of some unnamable feeling to hear Butch calling himself by Sundance’s name. It had been coincidence, of course, since Butch didn’t know that about Sundance. It had been fleeting and quickly pushed aside, but Sundance wished he could remember now exactly what that had felt like. He was pretty sure it was similar to the feeling he’d got hearing Jimmy call Butch by his real name.

For some reason, Butch had told Jimmy his real name. Or Jimmy had guessed, and Butch had admitted it, which Sundance had never known him to do before; he liked when people weren’t sure if they should be in awe of him or not. Or Jimmy was playing at some fantasy and Butch was letting him, even though pretending to be Butch Cassidy this close to a blown open bank vault was stupid, a fact Butch knew better than anybody.

Sundance flicked the mangled toothpick into a patch of wild grass. However it had happened, Butch had been some kind of honest with Jimmy. That was downright foolhardy, and Butch wasn’t usually one to play the fool when it counted. He was not the kind of flatfooted idiot to bandy about his name, nor, Sundance would guess, often willing to take the risk of any old person walking in on him in a compromising position. Sundance was no expert on relations, but he figured that all meant something.

A dry wind blew over the scrubland, making Sundance shiver and tip his hat down to shield his eyes from the dust. He would prefer to leave this thinking to Butch, but he couldn’t do that any more than he could go back in time and get that third drink when he should have. Now he was nearly stone sober and facing down a cold night in the stables, trying to figure what it was about Jimmy-the-fucking-limey that made Butch throw good sense he didn’t have to spare out the goddamn window. If Sundance could figure it out, he could keep it from happening again.

* * *

They left the bastard town at sunrise. Probably sensing Sundance’s foul mood, Butch was blessedly quiet all morning. Sundance had watched closely, but he seemed no more uncomfortable in the saddle today than anyone who’d rode as hard the day before as they had leaving Rawlins. He’d made a show of stretching and yawning a couple times, but that wasn’t out of the ordinary. It drove him crazy, almost making Sundance question if what he had seen actually happened, or if the whisky had been poison as well as bad.

Sundance hadn’t decided on what he was going to do about the Jimmy dilemma, as he’d begun to think about it. It was extremely frustrating. Actually seeing Butch in the morning had made it that much worse. He’d resisted an urge to punch him, and Butch’d been able to read him well enough to give him a wide berth. In most ways, they knew each other very well without having to talk. That’s what made them so successful as bandits, as Butch always said when he was in his cups and feeling sentimental; Sundance always agreed by telling Butch to shut the hell up then. Before last night, Sundance would have bet he knew Butch’s mind as well as Butch did.

They had been partners for years now, but Sundance had never known this secret of Butch’s. He’d never even guessed that there was a secret. Up ‘til last night, he wouldn’t have thought that Butch would want to keep a secret from him, no matter what it was. And maybe he didn’t want to. There were a lot of things Sundance had never thought to ask, either because he didn’t care or it didn’t matter when he and Butch were risking their lives on faith in each other every day. And he _had_ decided he didn’t care about Butch’s nature; Sundance had to keep reminding himself of this for some reason. He was going to having to give Butch a talking to about not bringing the law down on both their heads with an incautious dalliance, but first Sundance was going to have to get over the pointless hurt that Butch had trusted a stranger with his name before he’d trusted Sundance with the truth.

“I’ve got a question. I hope you can answer it. It’s been nagging at me for hours.”

Now the midday sun was on them, Butch had seemingly warmed up to his usual chattiness.

“I went to the trouble and expense of renting a room for us back there,” he said, falsely light, glancing over at Sundance. “They were charging by the bed, mind, so it was an expense. It wasn’t much, but it was the best that little town had to offer, and it was my money from my share. So here’s my question, and I can’t tell you how much I’m looking forward to the answer, Kid. Where did you find a better offer?”

Sundance could tell when Butch was setting someone up, and he didn’t appreciate that someone being him. He gave Butch a hard look and didn’t answer.

“See, I only ask because from the smell of you, I’d guess you spent the night with the horses, but that can’t be right. I ask you, why would anyone choose to spend a night in a stable rather than in a bed? A free bed, no less! It wasn’t the finest feather mattress, I’ll grant you, but it was better than a hayloft. And I know you to be a practical man, I’ve always liked that about you, Sundance, so I’m having trouble figuring what could possibly make you turn down a perfectly good bed.”

His voice had gotten loud and hard at the end, not sounding like a question at all. Sundance should have known that his absence from the room wouldn’t go unnoticed and that Butch would be able to put two and two together. He’d thought he would have more time to figure out what he was going to say. He wasn’t ready. At length, he ground out, “Got something you want to say, Butch?”

“No, that’s what I’m asking you. Have _you_ got something you want to say? Well? If you’re sore about something, we should work it out now.”

Sundance wanted to deny it because he didn’t know why or even exactly what he was sore about. But he’d never lied to Butch, not once, so he didn’t say anything. Feeling a mortifying flush creeping up his neck, Sundance couldn’t even look at him.

“So that’s how it is,” Butch said coldly.

“Apparently so!” Sundance clamped his jaw shut on any further unintended outbursts.

They kept riding. Sundance felt wild, wanting to kick his horse into a gallop, either to release the feeling tightening up his throat or to outrun it, he didn’t know which. But they would have to ride all day anyway, and the horses had to be kept fresh in case they needed to run. His thoughts ran wild while Sundance couldn’t, catching and snagging on memories of how Butch had kissed that man with the taste of his own spend on his tongue—the sharp words he’d just spoken without meaning to, wondering what Butch had heard in them. Out of the corner of his eye, Butch was staring straight ahead, looking pinched and angry. Sundance wanted to explain what he had meant, but even he didn’t know, which made finding the words harder than it already was.

After a while, Butch sucked in a big breath. “Okay, Sundance.” He sounded back to his usual affability; Sundance knew him well enough to hear the effort it took. “Since that’s how it is. Is it going to be a problem?”

It already was, though he’d be damned if he knew why. “I don’t want it to be,” Sundance said instead.

“Well, that’s good,” Butch said with forced cheer. “Me, neither. And if neither of us wants a problem, I don’t know why there would be. Right?”

And Sundance wanted to reply, _Sure, Butch_ like he always did, except he’d been up half the night, worrying the problem Butch wanted to pretend didn’t exist like it was a loose tooth. It was problem enough that he’d decided he was going to say something about it, though he still hadn’t worked that bit out yet. He couldn’t think past the sound of Jimmy’s open belt buckle jingling as he’d gotten up on the bed between Butch’s thighs.

“You shouldn’t have done it.” Those weren’t the right words, Sundance knew, but he’d started talking already, so he had to keep going. “It was a stupid risk with the law on our tails. You shouldn’t have told him your name.”

He realized immediately that he’d revealed more than he should have of how much he knew. Sure enough, Butch’s head whipped around towards him, eyes wide. With no other option, Sundance had to brazen it out. He glared back until Butch finally looked away, swallowing hard.

“Well. I guess I did say I liked your practicality.”

Seeing the way to the point he had wanted to make in the first place, Sundance added, “I just don’t want to die because you couldn’t keep it in your pants. Don’t do it again.”

Butch yanked his horse to a sudden halt.

Sundance looked around, hoping for signs of the Rawlins posse. “What?”

“I need a piss,” Butch snapped. “That alright with you?” Just leaving Jennie there, Butch strode off towards a scraggly patch of windswept trees off the trail they were taking north. Now he moved like he was sore. Might be he had been hiding it before he knew what all Sundance had seen, but it could just be he was angry. Butch didn’t like to be told what was what if he didn’t agree with it already, and he sometimes acted a brat about it. Annoyed, Sundance caught Jennie’s bridle and tied it to Tex’s so they wouldn’t wander too far, then followed Butch.

Sundance could guess why Butch was mad at him, but he was mad, too. He was angry with Butch for lying, angry he’d tumbled some kid he didn’t even know, angry at himself for being angry about it and for not being able to stop thinking about it. Probably not ever; Sundance couldn’t imagine hearing Butch hold court at a bar full of people hanging off his every word again without wondering if Butch was going to have one of the men that night instead of one of the women. It was unbearable. Butch had fucked any number of women before and Sundance had only been irritated if it interrupted their drinking. He had one man, and now Sundance couldn’t think of anything else. One man that Sundance knew of, but he was consumed with a certainty that there had been others. Butch was easy, after all. He had gone so easily onto his back for a stranger.

Sundance couldn’t look away from Butch’s back, his shoulders shifting under his suede jacket, and he was—

“Oh, come on,” Butch started complaining when he noticed Sundance coming, “I thought I was joking about—”

Sundance slammed into his back hard enough Butch stumbled forward, throwing out a hand to catch himself but Sundance caught him first. Butch didn’t hesitate to fight. He threw his elbow hard into Sundance’s side and tried to rip his hand away. They nearly fell into a patch of sagebrush as they careened around together. Sundance held on grimly, pinning his arms and pulling Butch tighter against his chest. Then Butch froze; he must have felt that Sundance was hard.

“Shut up,” he said tightly. “Do not say a word.”

“I wasn’t!”

“Shut up!” Sundance squeezed his eyes shut, but he knew he was going to do it. He might have known it as soon as he dismounted. Once he could admit that to himself, the moment of waiting to do it tasted sweet enough to enjoy. He breathed out, keeping his eyes shut. Butch’s jacket had been cold under his cheek, but the leather warmed quickly. He rubbed his face into the soft nap of it, just enough to feel his whiskers catch against it.

“Sundance?”

Sundance let go of Butch with one hand, feeling suddenly calm and steady as he unbuttoned his fly. “Yeah?”

Butch took a breath Sundance could feel expanding against his chest. Wordlessly, Butch unbuckled his gun belt and tossed it aside. As soon as he had his buttons undone, Sundance yanked Butch’s denims down and pulled his shirttail up to feel him, skin on bare skin. He spread Butch’s cheeks so he could feel him against his hole, too. Butch’s head fell forward as he moaned. He’d lost his hat at some point; so had Sundance. Stupid with feeling, Sundance didn’t think he’d seen anything more exciting than the nape of Butch’s neck, bent right there in front of him. He’d never felt anything like when his prick went between Butch’s legs and bumped up against his balls. There was gun oil in his saddlebag, but there was a heady delirium to this moment Sundance was afraid would end if they had a moment to think. Just the heat of Butch’s body held against his, hearing Butch’s shuddering breath while rubbing his prick into the pale, tender flesh of him, that could be enough.

“Goddamn—Sundance,” Butch grabbed his hand and took his forefingers into his mouth. Sundance could feel his tongue following the seams through the leather, sending a bolt of lightning through him nearly as strong as if Butch was sucking his cock instead.

“I’m not going to help you stay quiet.” Sundance took his hand away and pushed his fingers into Butch, other hand hard on his hip. Butch swore from the roughness, but he pressed back onto the intrusion. “Just like that. Yell if you want. I’m the only one who’ll hear it.”

Butch laughed breathlessly, moving Sundance’s hand off his coat collar to a firmer hold around his chest. “Give me your cock, I can take it.”

“I know you can.” Letting go long enough to Butch’s shirt out of the way, Sundance spat onto his ass and smeared it around his pucker. It wasn’t enough, but it could help a little.

“Would you do it already?”

Butch made a strangled gasp when he did. Sundance would find that gratifying if he could think of a single thing in the world other than the sensation of his own body. Spit was nothing like enough. Sundance was almost in pain himself from the searingly hot pressure and the drag of skin on skin. It was tight enough he had to haul on Butch by the chest and hip as much as push. It had to hurt, but Butch couldn’t mind; he had Sundance by the hair, dragging him into his neck, trying to pull him closer, deeper as they rocked together. Sundance couldn’t hear what he was saying over the blood in his ears, but he could feel the words thrumming in Butch’s throat. He pressed his face to them, stifling his groans in Butch’s collar as he came too soon, barely halfway inside him.

When he stilled, Butch tugged on his hair. “Did you finish already?”

Embarrassed but completely satisfied, Sundance only grunted in response. Butch snorted with laughter. Sundance couldn’t mind that just yet. There was a breeze cooling the sweat on his temples, but Butch was keeping him warm and he was curious for the way his laughter felt up close.

He liked it, too, when Butch made a noise like he was choking on his own tongue once Sundance reached around and started pulling on his cock. Their heads knocked hard together as Butch slumped back into him. Along with the pain, Sundance mostly felt pleased Butch unquestioningly trusted him to hold them both up. Butch came quickly, pulsing in Sundance’s hand as he spunked into the dusty grass. Eyes closed and hidden against his lovely neck, Sundance imagined how it looked: Butch flushed and undone, Sundance’s gloved fingers hiding and then revealing his prick as he stroked him steadily through completion.

Butch stilled his wrist when he’d had enough. Sundance kept holding him as he went soft, and Butch allowed it. He looked down for a moment before letting his head fall back on Sundance’s shoulder. “Jeez, I wish you’d have used your other hand, Kid. Or taken off your glove at least.”

Shrugging first so Butch would put his weight back on his own feet, Sundance started putting himself back together. “If you don’t like it, you can always go and find Jimmy.”

“Who? Oh,” Butch waved a dismissive hand. “That’d never work. He’d want me to split my share. I’m already being too generous with you.”

“ _You’re_ being generous! You do the next one without me, see if you survive to let me know how that goes.”

“I know, I know. You’re worth every penny.” Butch tossed him a grin as he finished doing up his fly. As he bent to pick up his gun belt, he groaned. “The next time we have to ride forty miles, we’re switching parts. See how you like it.”

“Like hell we will,” Sundance said automatically. It sounded vehement enough that Butch looked almost offended before peering more shrewdly at him. Wisely, he didn’t poke at it.

“Alright, I guess it isn’t smart to incapacitate my gun hand.”

Sundance scoffed. “You think mighty high of yourself.”

“Someone has to.” Playfully, Butch shot him a look of expectation. As Butch probably knew would happen, Sundance ignored the opening as he beat their hats against his thigh to shake off the dirt. Butch clicked his tongue disapprovingly. “I just complimented you. Multiple times.”

“After you laughed at me.”

“Hey, now! I can’t be held responsible for anything I said or did under those circumstances. You know I’d never laugh at you, Sundance.” Butch took the hat Sundance was handing him, then stepped closer, eyes wide and earnest. “You do know that, right? I’m sure with a real bed and some time—”

Sundance shouldered him aside, Butch breaking immediately to snicker at his own wit. Their horses had drifted away from the trail and were grazing a quarter mile west.

Coming after him, Butch clapped him on the shoulder. “Aw, you know I’m only kidding you, Kid.”

“You should shut up sometime,” Sundance advised him without malice. “Stay here. I’ll get the horses.”

Butch being fundamentally lazy as well as nursing all the aches he must have by now, he obeyed without complaint. Sundance kept an eye on the horizon but he didn’t rush on his way to get their mares; he judged it unlikely that a posse would think to find them here, assuming they hadn’t given up already. It was getting to be fall, and regular folk and their horses needed to be home for the harvest.

The same way he often did after a job, he wondered as he walked whether he should have been scared things could go wrong. He should have been extra scared of something like this, but it turned out he trusted Butch in everything, including catching him when he took a headlong leap into a blind alley. And Butch must trust him, too. Even before Sundance had thought to worry whether fucking his partner would change their partnership, Butch had set them right.

Butch would probably be able to talk him into lying down for him, Sundance realized. He rolled this idea around his mind as he started walking the horses back to where he’d left Butch. Sundance hadn’t ever gone with a man willingly and would shoot anyone for suggesting otherwise. Unless Butch could give him a good reason not to. He never minded stepping in when Sundance’s temper threatened to get the better of him, or cleaning up afterward. Strangely, the idea of spreading his legs for Butch didn’t fill him with dread. He had a hard time putting Butch together with any bad feeling stronger than annoyance that he was going on and on about the changing times _again_ when Sundance didn’t care one way or the other so long as there were jobs to get by on.

They had slept together, of course. Butch planned most jobs good enough that it didn’t happen often, but some things couldn’t be predicted and sometimes you had to. Sundance was familiar with how Butch’s snores blew softly against his shoulder on cold nights, huddled together under shared blankets as far out of the wind as they could manage. For such a skinny fellow, Butch put out heat like a pot-bellied stove.

He bet he knew exactly how it would go, if they fucked again and fell asleep together after. Butch would lay on his side and let Sundance decide if he wanted to put his back to Butch’s chest or if they were safe enough and warm enough for him to sleep on his back. Sundance never slept against Butch’s back; he didn’t like to feel he couldn’t grab his guns in an instant. But Sundance liked to have Butch at his back; he blocked the wind and Sundance knew where he was and how to cover him if they ever had to wake up shooting. But for all he accused Sundance of stealing his heat, however they slept, Butch always ended up with his face pushed into Sundance’s shoulder like a kitten to its mama. He claimed his nose got cold at night. Sundance didn’t mind.

In fact, Butch might not even have to convince Sundance to lay down for him. If they weren’t on a job or on the run from the law at the time and if Butch used something slick, Sundance might say yes. He wouldn’t volunteer and Butch wouldn’t bring it up for a while, and then he’d be nice and surprised when he went to convince Sundance and probably by then, Sundance wouldn’t need convincing. And in the meantime, Butch would be plenty pleased to keep spreading his legs. Sundance was absolutely certain of that.

Butch had laid down in the dirt while he waited, propped on a rock so he could watch Sundance walk up from under the brim of his hat.

“Thought for a second you might leave me here,” he said nonsensically, sitting up with a wince. He chuckled, “I mean, _I_ know you’d be lost without me, but the money’s all in the bags.”

Sundance paused while taking a swig from his canteen. It was the dumbest thing he’d ever heard Butch say and he’d heard some real stupid shit over the years, especially when Butch drank straight gin. Butch held out a hand for the water, oblivious.

Sundance crouched down beside him and let him take the canteen. It wasn’t news to Sundance that Butch was pretty for a man, but he noticed it again now, the way he looked with his head tipped back to drink and his eyes closed. When he opened them again, Butch blinked over at Sundance staring at him. “What, did you not think of that?”

Sundance kissed him.

It was a funny idea, kissing a man like he would a girl, but Butch had a knack for making Sundance see a particular wisdom in his funny ideas. He’d knocked Butch’s hat out of the way first, but he forgot to adjust his own, so it knocked itself out of the way on Butch’s face. Butch flinched away from the brim of Sundance’s hat, then melted for him like rubber on a summer day, only barely holding himself up as he went all soft and loose, open to go wherever Sundance led. If they didn’t have hours of riding to get to the next township, Sundance would have taken advantage of that. He wondered if Butch had ever had a man with a mustache before, if he liked the reminder that he was with a man. He wondered if Butch would tell him if he asked. He wondered what his spunk would taste like in Butch’s mouth.

When he pulled away, Butch frowned and thrust the canteen back at him. “You son of a bitch, I was going to do that.”

Shrugging, Sundance stood and fixed his hat. He hadn’t planned that any more than he’d planned to fuck Butch. He trusted his instincts. They may have changed suddenly where Butch was concerned, but they hadn’t led him wrong yet.

Swearing, Butch swung himself up into the saddle. “Well, you can forget about doing that again anytime soon.”

Sundance didn’t bother to kill a smirk. “Feeling incapacitated, Butch?”

Butch shot him a dirty look before nudging Jennie back onto the trail. He was keeping a ginger seat. “If I die before we make it to Casper, I trust you’ll come up with a good story to explain it to the gang.”

“You’re out of your mind if you think I’d go back there without you,” Sundance said absently as he squinted up at the sky. He reckoned they had about five hours of daylight left. If they kept this pace and broke a couple more times to let the horses rest, they might get into Casper within an hour of sundown. He eyed Butch’s posture again. “Shouldn’t be too cold. We could spend the night by Eagle Creek instead.”

Butch was smiling, looking at Sundance like—

“What?” Sundance said brusquely, trying not to sound unnerved.

Still smiling, Butch shook his head. “Nah, I’ll be alright. So long as Jennie is gentle with me.” He patted her neck affectionately.

Sundance was skeptical, but Eagle Creek was still a ways out if Butch changed his mind. Pulling out his tin of tobacco, he settled in for a ride in contented silence, contemplating the idea of possibly sucking Butch’s cock. It was going to happen at some point, there was no question of that. But the thought struck him, as he tucked a wad of chew into his cheek, that he might truly enjoy doing it. Even apart from the satisfaction of making Butch incoherent or the promise of getting the same from Butch. Sundance kind of liked having something to do with his mouth. It helped him keep the rest of himself still while keeping his hands free and that was a useful quality to have in many situations. Sucking Butch’s cock wouldn’t be the same as chewing on a toothpick or sucking a boiled sweet—for one thing, Butch’s cock was bound to be as hot as the rest of him—but the idea was interesting. He could try it that very night in Casper if he wanted.

He got a couple of minutes of contemplating what he might want before Butch started winding himself up to say something. Something serious, judging by the look on his face and how long it was taking to say.

“What—”

“Nope, I’m not doing that.”

“You don’t know what—” Sundance cut him off again by spitting tobacco juice between their horses; Butch scowled. “Well, how else am I going to distract myself from the pain in my ass?”

“You’re a pain in the ass.” When he clicked his tongue and turned Tex west, Butch followed without hesitation. Sundance felt a pang of satisfaction all the way to his toes.

“We don’t have to sleep rough on my account.”

Sundance ignored that.

“Alright, we’ll go to Eagle Creek. But we are going to talk about this, Sundance!” Butch shook a finger at him. Not for the first time, Sundance thought about biting it. Given recent events, that was another thing he needed to contemplate.

“Sure, Butch. Only, talk about something else until we get there.”


End file.
